


Overtime

by Terror_Radius



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25331284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terror_Radius/pseuds/Terror_Radius
Summary: Lazar is a terrible man-- having just fired Max for not being an assertive man, he decides to let off some steam with Dwight.Whether Dwight wants that or not.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Lazar
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags.

_ This is wrong. _

That’s all his brain can offer in this situation; the plain, obvious statement of, ‘this is wrong.’ If anything, that’s the thing that enrages him most-- not the fact that his boss was molesting him through his dark slacks, rubbing those rough fingers against the mound of his cunt as Dwight whines and mewls under his masterful hands, not that Lazar had fired Max for being a ‘weak male’-- whatever that was, nor the fact that Dwight essentially in his pocket; threatening to leak videos of himself and Dwight to the entire company, using Dwight’s own work email. It would be bad enough if this were some Joe-Schmoe, though the man doing this, the man pressing his knee in between Dwight’s thighs as he fondles the boy is the CEO of Peak 22.

And all his brain can offer to help the situation is ‘this is wrong’. He feels pathetic, weak, emasculated--  _ humiliated _ at the mere fact that this was happening to him. He could’ve just as easily declined his boss’s offer for overtime, declined the short glass of whiskey he’d been given as a ‘reward’ for staying behind-- and Dwight, ever the gentleman, despite knowing the consequences of accepting such a gift from Lazar would lead to this situation accepted the roofied drink from him.

He didn’t know what the consequences would be after accepting  the drink from Lazar would be the first time-- he didn’t know that it would lead to Dwight eventually waking up sloppily cast over his desk, Lazar balls-deep in his cunt, pounding his cervix with impunity. But he knew better this time. And he still took the glass.

Lazar’s hand departs from his crotch, and dips beneath Dwight’s waistband, undoing the button holding the trousers together, and slowly he begins undoing Dwight’s zipper. A pale, trembling hand wraps around the CEO’s wrist as if to protest, but he just continues his mission as he undoes his own trousers as well-- once they crumple in a pile at his heels, his free hand goes to remove Dwight’s hand from the other dealing with his zipper, and pins it to the desk behind Dwight.

With an unceremonious  _ zzzzip _ , Dwight’s pants are bunched at his heels as well, Lazar pushing him back, brushing aside papers and utensils that litter the surface of the desk. His boss’s mouth goes directly for Dwight’s throat as his head slumps back, stewing the blood beneath his skin into dark bruises that are sure to persist through the week. He posits that he’ll just wear more turtlenecks; the curve of his spine making contact with the plateau of Lazar’s desk. The prominent bulge in Lazar’s undergarments grows as Lazar returns to molesting Dwight through his own undergarments; the front dampened by his natural lubricant. 

Soon, Lazar decides that Dwight is pliant enough for something other than his fingertips, and he pulls Dwight’s modesty off with prying hands, removing the trousers that hang from his feet in the process.

“Should be all good and wet for me now, Dwight.” Lazar sneers, his voice deep and gruff, and all Dwight can do is shake his head in protest as Lazar pulls his own undergarments to his knees, allowing his impressive erection to pop free from the waistband, bouncing slightly as he nears Dwight once more, positioning himself between the subordinate’s legs.

“Pl-ease…” Is all Dwight manages to groan as his legs are pushed up against his chest, legs lazily thrown over his boss’s shoulders.

Lazar snorts and shakes his head, wielding his dick in one hand, keeping Dwight pinned to his desk with the other. And then the CEO is quite nearly on top of him, looking down at his pride as Dwight gets lost in his hairline, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, leaving indents that have yet to break skin.

“You ready, boy?” The man barks as he frots the underside of his dick against Dwight’s vulva, the underside of his length getting smeared in lubricant as it butts against the hormone-enhanced head of his clit, causing his left leg to jerk against his chest.

Dwight hardly has the mind to respond, the roofie’s effects taking hold on his mind, claws of black enclosing around his braincase-- causing his vision to blur. His head feels as though it’s weighed down by boulders, and he struggles to keep it upright, Lazar mutters some dirty incoherent nonsense at Dwight as his eyes focus on his boss’s own steely gaze. He wants to vomit, to empty his lunch on his boss’s face, but he can’t bring himself to.

He only then realizes that he’d been completely silent, partially compliant in the whole matter-- dread claws at his heart as he imagines the comments the CEO would make at him after he’d finished-- about how he wanted it, about how he liked it.

He opens his mouth to protest as Lazar’s head breaches his drooling entrance, a soft grunt escaping Dwight as the flare of his glans pop inside of his vagina. His walls are exceedingly tight, warm-- enough to make Lazar shudder as he sinks inside of his subordinate. The subordinate who begins to struggle again, his walls clenching as if to expel Lazar from his sleeve, doing the opposite of what they intended.

Dwight feebly raises an opened fist to claw at Lazar’s eyes, but that too is pinned to the desk-- his legs pinned to his chest. He was defenseless, there was no getting out of this. He was trapped-- claustrophobic. The urge to vomit again emerges, but nothing comes up, no bile sprays itself onto Lazar’s face, staining their work shirts, nothing. He’s hardly fighting. He wants this. He wants to be raped by his boss.

Another moan is pushed from Dwight’s depths as Lazar continues to plunge deeper inside of Dwight, his head rolling back as another, longer moan is pulled from his own vocal chords-- low and deep, the noise causing a certain unwelcome, unfamiliar heat to stir below Dwight’s stomach. Despite the nature of the assault, his body was turned on. Further evidence that he’d had this coming.

As Lazar buries himself to the hilt, the tip of his cockhead pressing against the round plug of Dwight’s cervix, the subordinate whines, his eyes fluttering shut-- the sound high pitched and soft.

This drives Lazar to pull out a few inches, then ram himself deeper into Dwight’s passage, further abusing the plug of his cervix as he reams his boy. Slowly, Lazar builds a rhythm, his testicles slapping softly against Dwight’s ass as he pistons in and out, drawing exponentially louder moans from the drugged Dwight, his head canting to the side, plugging his ear against his shoulder-- nose crinkling as he refrains from finishing then and there. How humiliating would it be to cum while being raped.

But then Lazar pins his a-spot, causing all of the pent up heat within Dwight to explode, and he cums with a small shout, his back arching into the air, away from the sweaty desktop, his eyes squeezing shut as his hands flex and push against Lazar’s iron grip.

He’s persistently fucked through his orgasm, his mind going blank as he reaches his climax, squirming as his vulva contracts around Lazar’s length, effectively attempting to milk him. As Dwight comes down from his high, he snaps back to the reality of the situation. He was panting and sweating like a bitch in heat on his boss’s dick, his toes curling and unfurling as Lazar’s thrusts begin to grow sloppy, inconsistent. He’s close, Dwight can tell.

Though Dwight remembers something, more rather, remembers a lapse in memory-- the CEO failed to mention or even bring a condom. And he seemed pretty intent on staying inside Dwight.

“Wwa-it.” Dwight demands softly, his head rolling from side to side as he pleas with Lazar, “Don-t not-- not insi-de.” He struggles against Lazar’s confining hands, his legs kicking out against his chest as Lazar pants, pressing all of his weight into Dwight’s knees, pinning them to his chest as he drives himself as deep as he possibly can be inside of the boy.

The Lazar’s hands leave Dwight’s grabbing his hips and forcing himself even deeper as Dwight whines and begs-- his arms too heavy to even do anything as Lazar’s dick unloads inside of Dwight, his cockhead stabbing the boy’s cervix-- no doubt flooding his womb with seed. Dwight mewls and complains as Lazar’s softening dick slips out from him, cum leaking from his abused hole onto the floor. He backs away from Dwight, and straightens his collar, wiping his brow with that stupid handkerchief he keeps tucked in his jacket pocket.

“Pleasure doing work with you Dwight, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow-- bright and early.” He flashes one of those wretched fake grins, accompanied with a curt nod as he pulls his trousers up, fastening the belt.

Dwight hardly has the mind to tell Lazar to go fuck himself as he pads out of the office door, leaving Dwight with instructions to clean up.

_ This is wrong. _


End file.
